<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Making It Work by MaggieMaySheBite</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24863857">Making It Work</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaySheBite/pseuds/MaggieMaySheBite'>MaggieMaySheBite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blackmail, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone Needs A Nap, I'm tagging to stay safe but the gore's rlly minimal, M/M, Murder, Secret Identity, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, especially Bruce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:49:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24863857</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaySheBite/pseuds/MaggieMaySheBite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He could handle the Joker being infatuated with Batman. He wasn’t blind. There were always these little glances and comments that made Bruce suspect. It had never been a real issue before now, so he was always content to sweep it under the rug again until their next encounter. But ignoring it wasn’t an option anymore. Having Joker’s infatuation with him confirmed in an all-out murder spree was horrible, but Bruce could work with that.</p><p>or where Bruce agrees to date Joker in exchange for good behavior</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>172</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Whatever he’s doing he’s gotten my attention</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My first entry into Batjokes. I hope this ends well.<br/>I don't know how to tag but I swear I'll keep updating them as this goes.<br/>Lots of love to TomarrrywolfstarFTW for betaing! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An unbearably humid breeze made its way through the dark streets of Gotham, offering little reprieve from the broiling heat the city endured during the day. It swept under eaves and into avenues, tickling Batman’s face and lazily tugging on his cape as he examined the body.</p><p>Batman has seen a lot of things while patrolling the streets of Gotham; penguins roaming the streets, fire trucks set on actual fire, and some truly horrifying hallucinations courtesy of fear gas.</p><p>But Batman can’t say he’s ever seen anything quite like this.</p><p>He stood in front of an upscale restaurant; large floor to ceiling windows reflecting the red and blue lights of the police cars. From what he knew, the place was originally built in the late 70s, during the height of organized crime in Gotham, and had been a thinly-veiled front for the Carmine family’s shadier business. It was bombed out a few years ago during a hit on the previous head of the family, it got gentrified, as most areas of Gotham did, and went through extensive remodeling under the new owner.  Bruce vaguely remembered taking a few dates there, not that he’d ever set foot here again after this.</p><p>The victim was laid out on the sidewalk in a large pool of blood, body broken and contorted into unnatural angles from when he’d apparently been dropped from the top of the four-story building. The corners of his mouth were cut into a grisly Glasgow smile, his cheeks and jaw covered in lipstick stains. His expensive suit was covered in large splotches of blood and purple paint, and a bouquet of flowers had been duct-taped into his hands before he was thrown off. A message was written on the restaurant window, the words “Hey Batsy,” punctuated with a small heart slathered on the window with, what appeared to be, lipstick.</p><p>Batman could feel a migraine coming on.</p><p>While the Joker had never been exactly subtle, he’d never been this forward either.</p><p>The whole scene was unusual. It wasn’t Joker’s style to dump a body and leave. Or to focus that much attention on one person. Joker always liked to put on a show and terrorize crowds of people. His crimes were as ostentatious and flamboyant as he himself was. This was too personal: too intimate. Batman briefly considered the possibility of a copycat killer, but he doubted it. No one else in Gotham would be this… flirtatious.</p><p>“Well this is new.” Gordon stepped under the police tape, hands in his pockets, and looking very much in need of a nap. Not that Batman was one to talk.</p><p>“You got an ID on the body?” Batman asked gruffly. He didn’t have time to waste on idle chit chat. Gordon didn’t seem to mind though, already accustomed to Batman’s abrasive demeanor.</p><p>“Name’s Richard Hill, age 37, budget analyst for Wayne Enterprises and newly divorced.” Gordon shoved his hands into his pockets with a frown. </p><p>“Any kids?”</p><p>“None that we know of.”</p><p>Batman hummed in thought. He didn’t remember ever meeting a Richard Hill but he made a mental note to look through the payroll later. So the victim was a middle-aged man with a highly paid job and single. Who does that remind him of?</p><p>His square jaw visibly tightened, mouth pressing into a thin line.</p><p>“When did Joker escape Arkham?”</p><p>“8:32 p.m,” Gordon recited from memory.</p><p>“And when was the body found?”</p><p>“11:00 p.m.”</p><p>Apparently, he had roughly two and a half hours to find Mr. Hill, kill him, stage the body, and dump it. Joker could have easily pulled a random person from the street (It wouldn’t be the first time he had), but there were too many uncanny similarities between himself and the victim to be purely coincidental. Joker must have already been keeping tabs on this person long before he broke out of Arkham.</p><p>Batman was going to have to visit his least favorite asylum. Again. </p><p>“Penny for your thoughts?” Gordon piped up.</p><p>“Whatever he’s doing, he’s gotten my attention.”</p><p> </p><p>~~~~</p><p> </p><p>That June in Gotham was one of the most infamous in the city’s long and proud history of heinous crimes. </p><p>Bodies kept piling up in seemingly random places. Mutilated corpses would show up in parks, coffee shops, theatres, and anywhere considered even remotely romantic, including a memorable incident in the Tunnel of Love that the CSI was still trying to clean up weeks later. Law enforcement had to pull double and triple shifts just to keep up. The exhaustion and frustration within the precinct occasionally boiled over into fist fights that needed to be broken up.</p><p>	All of this, combined with the oppressive summer heat that turned the industrial city into a kiln, set everyone in Gotham on edge.</p><p>Bruce was currently holed up in the Batcave, the long bouts of silence only occasionally interrupted by the chittering of the bats and the whirring of a small fan that only seemed to blow more hot air at him. He sat in his desk chair, ruminating over the case. His sleeves were rolled up as far as they would go and his white-button up shirt unpleasantly sticking to his back.</p><p> He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying to alleviate the strain of staring at a monitor for several hours on end.</p><p>All of the victims fit the same profile as Mr. Hill; white, middle-aged, single, wealthy, and employed by one Bruce Wayne who was currently looking through all the available data to try and figure out where the Joker was hiding. </p><p>No one knew where the Joker was. He had searched all of his old haunts and centers of operation, all coated in thick layers of dust and blood stains. He hadn’t hired any new or even old cronies and none of his usual associates had heard from him. No one at Arkham knew where he went or even how he managed to escape. It was as if he vanished into thin air, only to materialize again to leave Batman flowers and love notes in the form of murders. Bruce sighed in frustration, taking a swig from his lukewarm coffee to try and stay focused.</p><p>Everyone at Wayne Enterprises was understandably worried and scared, a few even resigning and moving to Bludhaven. In an attempt to keep the casualties to a minimum, he had mandated that all company operations be either stalled or done from home until the Joker was apprehended. His life now consisted of dozens of video conferences during the day, patrolling the streets at night and using every spare hour in between to try and catch the Joker. The lack of progress on the case was frustrating enough without constantly having to put it on hold for another damn video call. If he had to sit through one more Zoom meeting, he was going to scream. </p><p>Work was the least of his worries though.</p><p>	He could handle the Joker being infatuated with Batman. He wasn’t blind. There were always these little glances and comments that made Bruce suspect. It had never been a real issue before now, so he was always content to sweep it under the rug again until their next encounter. But ignoring it wasn’t an option anymore. Having Joker’s infatuation with him confirmed in an all-out murder spree was horrible, but Bruce could work with that.</p><p>However, The Joker knowing Batman’s secret identity was one of the worst possible case scenarios. Of course, he had contingencies for this sort of thing (usually involving him faking his own death or creating a new identity and moving to Australia), but those plans were drastic and irreversible.</p><p>His life would be over. </p><p>He could never come back to Gotham. </p><p>He wouldn’t be able to protect the people he cared about.</p><p>Bruce leaned back in his desk chair and stared up at the cavernous ceiling, counting the stalactites above him like stars. A bead of sweat rolled off his temple and into his hairline. Maybe he was overthinking this. There was a good chance Joker had just been hiding in plain sight this entire time: Somewhere Batman wouldn’t think to look. He took a deep breath, trying to clear the clutter from his mind.</p><p>He breathed in.</p><p>And out.</p><p>What were some places he hadn’t considered?</p><p>His train of thought was violently derailed by the sharp beeping of an alarm clock. Bruce jumped, shoulders seizing up as he moved papers and folders around to try and find the damn thing. When he finally did, the neon blue light of the digital clock assaulted his retinas. He had to blink a few times before he could read ‘4:00 am’ flashing aggressively at him.</p><p>Bruce let out a disgusted groan, because really, how was it 4 am already? He dragged a hand down his face. He had a board meeting at 7:30. If he went to bed now, he might just be able to salvage the rest of the day. Bruce stood up, stretching to feel his spine and shoulders pop from sitting still for too long. He turned off the monitor, grabbed his half empty coffee mug, and dragged his feet to the elevator. The gray doors slid close and the elevator took off at high speed, quietly whirring as Bruce tried to blink away the imprint of the bright computer screen from behind his eyes. He yawned as the elevator slowly came to a stop. The doors parted, moving two large bookcases with them. He stepped into the library and froze.</p><p>Bruce dropped his coffee mug. It hit the floor with a dull thud.</p><p>A pale man in a deep purple suit sat in one of the wing-back armchairs, swirling a glass of brandy. His red lips spread into an even wider grin at the shocked look on Bruce’s face.</p><p>“Hi, Bruce.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Our relationship doesn’t have to be fatal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Joker shows up outside of the Batcave with a declaration. Bruce doesn't take it well.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to Zenbujin for betaing! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Joker burst into a high-pitched cackle, nearly falling out of the chair. </p><p>	“You should see the look on your face!” He wrapped an arm around himself, loud cackles echoing off the high ceilings. Meanwhile, Bruce hadn’t moved an inch. The bookcase doors closed behind him with a loud click. Joker saw him come out of the Batcave. He managed to get around the manor’s security without tripping a single alarm. Bruce felt the blood drain out of his face. He had been waiting for him, sitting directly in front of the entrance. If he knew the exact details of the Batcave-</p><p>Then he knew everything. Bruce wanted to vomit. Joker’s laughter dissolved into hysterical giggles as he wiped an invisible tear from his eye. He took in Bruce’s horrified reaction and suddenly fell silent. He narrowed his sharp, green eyes with an annoyed huff.</p><p>“Calm down, Bruce. I’m just here to talk.”</p><p>	“Where’s Alfred?” Bruce asked, thankful that his voice didn’t shake. </p><p>	“I told Jeeves to take the night off.” Joker nonchalantly took a sip of his drink.</p><p>	“What did you do to him?”</p><p>	“I put him away for safekeeping,” he said with a flippant shrug.</p><p>	“Where is he?” Bruce growled.</p><p>	“He’s unharmed, if still a stick in the mud,” he added with a sneer, “and I will tell you his location on the one condition that you hear me out. Jeez, who got your cape in a twist?”</p><p>	“You did. When you broke into my home, kidnapped my butler, and terrorized Gotham.” Joker mumbled something about technicalities, waving his glass around and spilling alcohol on the carpet.</p><p>	He could easily overpower Joker. Just subdue the shorter man, interrogate him, call the police, and they could have him back in Arkham in less than an hour. But Bruce knew better than anyone that he wouldn’t get anything out of Joker if the clown wasn’t feeling chatty. Alfred could be God-knows-where, and Bruce would spend several days searching the city for him if he wasn’t already dead by the time Bruce got there. That didn’t even take into account the fact that Joker knew his identity, and Bruce had no idea what kind of blackmail he had lined up for that. He took a deep breath through his nose. He’d have to play by the Joker’s rules and beat him at his own game. Again.</p><p>	“I want you to get out of my home,” he said in the most level tone he could manage.</p><p>	“This is how you treat me?” Joker squawked indignantly. “After I spent all night waiting up for you? After all those gifts I left you?” It was truly impressive how Joker could manage to look terrifying and like a kicked puppy at the same time. </p><p>	“You mean the people you killed?” Bruce raised an unamused eyebrow.</p><p>	“Will you stop being cranky for five minutes? I came here with good news and you’re raining on my parade.” Bruce really didn’t want to be reminded of the parade Joker threw several years ago. Prince was ruined for Bruce forever after that. He took another breath and silently counted to ten, a deep scowl creeping onto his face.</p><p>“What did you want to tell me?”</p><p>	The Joker visibly perked up at this, eyes widening and zeroing in on Bruce with the kind of intensity that usually precedes a massacre of epic scale. Bruce’s heart started beating a nervous tattoo in his chest. Joker suddenly stood up. He set his glass down on an end table and stalked towards Bruce.</p><p>	“Oh Batsey,” he sighed. “We’ve always been two sides of a coin, you and I: You representing all that’s just and good and myself representing all that’s fun.”</p><p>“Is that what you call it?”</p><p>	“Shush it! It’s my turn to talk.” He actually had the audacity to disapprovingly wag his finger at Bruce. “We wouldn’t want ol’ what’s-his-face to have an accident.”</p><p>“Alfred,” Bruce bristled.</p><p>“Whatever.” Joker flippantly waved his hand.</p><p>“After all the years of fighting and bantering and holding the public at large hostage,” He gesticulated wildly, throwing his arms out as he crossed the room. “I feel like I can finally be open about how I feel.” </p><p>Joker placed an unnaturally pale hand on his chest with a look that was entirely too sincere. Bruce stiffened when Joker playfully waltzed into his personal space, leaning in with less than a foot between them.</p><p>	“We complete each other, more than you realize or want to admit.” He reached out to trail white fingers across the back of Bruce’s hand with a thoughtful look. It took all of his considerable willpower not to smack the clown then and there. Bruce’s scowl melted away, giving way to confusion and then shock when Joker got down on one knee.</p><p>	“I don't want to fight forever until we eventually kill each other.” Joker gently pulled Bruce’s hand towards him, moving his thumb over Bruce’s much larger knuckles. “Our relationship doesn’t have to be fatal.” He placed a reverent kiss on the back of Bruce’s hand, leaving a bright red smudge to match the red flush creeping up to Bruce’s ears. His manic smile softened into something disturbingly human as Joker looked up at him with, God help him, unmistakable adoration.</p><p>	“I love you. I always have and I always will.”</p><p>	Bruce’s brain short-circuited, his face falling back into a stony expression, because-</p><p>What the Hell?</p><p>	He didn’t know whether to laugh or punch him in his stupid, earnest face. Maybe both considering just how ridiculous this entire situation was. He thought he could handle Joker’s infatuation. </p><p>But this was so much worse.</p><p>Really, Bruce didn’t know what else he expected, or if the Joker was even capable of love, but that wasn’t a rabbit hole he wanted to go down. He wanted to kick himself for not mentally preparing himself for this sooner. </p><p>	Joker’s soft, earnest smile started to fall the longer Bruce stayed silent until it finally settled into an annoyed frown. </p><p>“Batsey? Babe?” Bruce slowly blinked at him, still reeling. Joker gave an exaggerated sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. “Wow, Joker, that was so romantic. I love you too.” He imitated Bruce’s deeper voice, flapping his hand in a mocking gesture.</p><p>	“Is that what you think this is?” Bruce’s voice dropped to a dangerously low volume, blue eyes turning frighteningly cold. The Joker shrunk under the force of his baleful glare, green eyebrows rising comically high. “After killing several people, mutilating their corpses, terrorizing Gotham, threatening my only family, and breaking into my house in the middle of the night, you thought that I would have feelings for you?”</p><p>	Joker looked like he had just been slapped with one of his rubber chickens. Bruce kept expecting some kind of outburst or violent retribution. But Joker remained kneeling in silence. Bruce could see the wild machinations of his mind in every subtle twitch of his face. The prolonged silence made his hair stand on end. Joker was always at his most unpredictable when he was quiet.</p><p>After several long minutes, he finally spoke up.</p><p>	“Why not?” he asked softly. </p><p>	“Pardon?” Bruce muttered, not even bothering to hide the underlying threat in his tone.</p><p>	“Why can’t you feel the same way?” Joker abruptly stood up, a dangerous spark of madness dancing in his eyes, and stepped further into Bruce’s personal space. Bruce’s back bumped into the bookshelf behind him.</p><p>	“Is this a joke?” Bruce sneered. Joker quickly reached out to place a too-warm hand on the side of Bruce’s neck. Bruce grabbed the lapels of Joker’s suit, only to still when he felt the tip of a knife press into his ribs.</p><p>“I see you,” Joker hissed. He leaned in close, leaving a scant few inches between them. “More clearly and more completely than anyone else possibly could. You think Cobblepot or Dent or any of those other two-bit imposters understand why you prance around at night, beating bad guys to a pulp? You think they understand your one rule? We’re the same.”</p><p>	“You’re a psychotic mad-man who takes joy in the suffering of others,” Bruce bit out. </p><p>	“I’m not crazy,” Joker growled. The tip of the knife pressed further into Bruce’s ribs, making him wince. He could feel the slow trickle of blood making its way down his stomach.</p><p>	“Could’ve fooled me.” Bruce’s voice dropped into the guttural snarl he only ever used as Batman. He tightened his grip on Joker’s suit, leveling him with a glare that sent most people tripping over themselves in terror. But not Joker. He stared back at Bruce with a deranged, piercing intensity. As if he was looking for something. Bruce felt spindly fingers tighten around his neck. Joker suddenly lit up with excitement, his mouth stretching wide into a knowing grin. The agonizing silence suddenly gave way to giddy laughter that rang throughout the library like a gunshot.</p><p>“At least I’m not constantly lying to myself,” Joker crooned in between giggles. He smoothed a thumb over Bruce’s cheekbone. The gesture should have disgusted Bruce more than it did. He tried not to think about how surprisingly warm Joker’s hand was. </p><p>	“What?” The question came out with less bite than he intended. Joker was too close. Bruce could smell the cologne, and heavy makeup, and something cloyingly sweet on Joker’s breath as it fanned across his face. He’d never been this close to the Joker before. Bruce was woefully unprepared for this much… intimacy. The thought made him shudder.</p><p>	“I’m not blind. You’ve got the hots for me too, you just refuse to admit it.” He grinned like the cat that got the canary.</p><p>	“That’s not true.” </p><p>	“Isn’t it?” Joker asked with a sinister smirk.</p><p>	Bruce opened his mouth for another denial when Joker suddenly lunged forward to smash their faces together. The air rushed out of his lungs, head slamming back into the shelf as Joker licked into his mouth, tongue curling around Bruce’s and licking behind his teeth. He distantly heard the knife fall to the floor with a soft thud as Joker’s other hand moved to tangle bone-white fingers in his dark hair, thumbs pressing behind his ears. Sharp teeth tore into his bottom lip and drew blood. Without thinking, Bruce brought his knee up hard into the Joker’s crotch. The clown doubled over, holding himself and howling with laughter. Bruce released his grip on Joker and watched him crumple to the ground in a fetal position. A large drop of blood crept down his chin. He blinked slowly several times, trying to process what just happened as Joker writhed in pain.<br/>He got kissed.</p><p>By the Joker.</p><p>Joker kissed him after saying he loved him. </p><p>Bruce resisted the petty urge to kick him in the ribs.</p><p>	“That’s a low blow, Brucie,” Joker muttered with his face pressed into the carpet. Bruce grimaced in discomfort. He was hoping he’d never have to do that. But Joker always did have an exceptional talent for ruining plans.</p><p>“Is it because of that whole dichotomy of good and evil thing you care about so much?” Joker asked between pained groans. “Be honest.” </p><p>And with that, what little patience Bruce had left finally snapped.</p><p>	“You want to know why?” his mouth twisted into a harsh frown. “It’s because I don’t want to deal with you,” he snarled, baring his teeth. “I don’t have the time, effort, or energy to constantly clean up your messes. You ruin everyone you touch, slowly chipping away at them until they’re just as insane as you are.” For a moment, Bruce felt much lighter than he had in ages. He had been thinking that for years, but never actually said it out loud.</p><p>	But then he remembered who he was with.</p><p>Joker’s grin faltered, openly staring at him without blinking. Bruce felt his heart plummet into his stomach. How could he allow himself to do something so impulsive? A cold sweat broke out along the back of his neck. He’s seen Joker skin someone for getting the wrong suit at the dry-cleaners.</p><p>What if he just killed Alfred? Bruce balled his hands into fists to stop their shaking. </p><p>Joker hummed thoughtfully, slowly picking himself up off the floor with the occasional snicker. Bruce followed his progression with the wariness of a cornered animal. He watched Joker straighten up, smoothing a hand over his green hair and looking too put together for a man who was just on the floor in agony a few minutes ago.</p><p>	“I’ll let you have that one as a freebie. Consider it an apology for my being… less than appropriate.” He said, not looking even remotely apologetic. Bruce huffed out a shaky breath. Exhaustion sank into his limbs and his headache came back with a vengeance.</p><p>	“Now I’ve heard you out. Where’s Alfred?” he asked with a sneer. Joker’s brow furrowed in confusion, tilting his head to the side.</p><p>“Jeeves,” Bruce spat out. Joker’s eyebrows shot up with an exaggerated, “Oh!”</p><p>Bruce blinked at him with a blank look. He was so tired.</p><p>	“He’s hogtied in the pantry, but you’re not going to go get him for another ten minutes.” Joker casually brushed invisible dust off his suit.</p><p>	“Why’s that?” Bruce looked him up and down, expecting another knife or a pipe bomb. Joker held up a small device with a beeping light and red wires haphazardly sticking out from its casing.</p><p>	“You didn’t think I’d leave here without insurance, did you?” Joker leaned forward like he was letting Bruce in on a secret. He felt his eye twitch in irritation as Joker gave a mock-bow and sauntered towards the exit.</p><p>	“Wait,” Bruce called out. Joker turned around, eyes too wide and smile too sharp. </p><p>	“Yes, darling?”</p><p>“Are you going to tell anyone?” Bruce asked. Joker raised a questioning eyebrow.</p><p>	“Well, I’m not really one for group stuff, so no.” Joker shrugged with a suggestive smirk. And really, Bruce kind of walked into that one. He reeled back, disgust and annoyance written all over his face.</p><p>	“I mean about my night job,” Bruce said slowly like he was speaking to a particularly obtuse toddler. Joker snorted and chuckled as if it was the only genuinely funny thing he’d heard all night.</p><p>	“Oh, Batsey, sweetie, baby, why on Earth would I do that?” he asked with a beseeching look. “You’re too much fun to put out of commission. Who said you have no sense of humor?”<br/>	And with that, Joker turned on his heel and cheekily blew a kiss over his shoulder as he slipped into the hallway, out of sight.</p><p>	Bruce slumped back into the bookcase. He ran his hands over his face and tried to swallow the lingering taste of iron. He pressed a hand to his ribs, feeling the blood soak through his shirt, and silently wondering what he ever did to deserve this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Again, this story is particularly difficult to tag. If I miss something that should be added to the tags plz lmk.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>